“It is unimportant,” she said. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. I told the soldier how he must go by the passage, and he found it and brought it here. Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. “Then we must try and make London endurable for you,” he remarked cheerfully. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. I thought you might like to see. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. It’s like this: You want freedom.
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